


Don't Look Back

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Series: Two Weeks in Beacon Hills [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorkable, Confused Stiles Stilinski, Derek Has Feelings, Does that count as a first kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sad Derek Hale, Started as a Christmas fic, Will update ratings if needed, christmas break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: Winter break sends friends on a ski trip...leaving someone with the grace of an intoxicated llama breaking his leg and unable to go. Being stuck with Derek at the loft while everyone is out having fun isn't exactly Stiles' idea of fun. Still. There's something to be said for catching up with someone you aren't seeing as often any more.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to work on this one as much as I can in between the other series I'm writing.  
> Man. When I come back from hiatus I hit it hard. LOL

Stiles half hopped, half walked across Derek’s loft, propped up on crutches, leg in a cast that ran from mid thigh to ankle. There were braces, bolt and screws holding everything together, and keeping his leg somewhat immobilized. The look of frustration and annoyance on Stiles face were the polar opposite to the amusement on Derek’s.

“So, let me get this straight. You and Scott go after a lamia on campus, based on a tip from Lydia who is on the other side of the country, you take out the vampire…only to slip at the top of the stairs on your spilled coffee, and fall and break your leg.”

Stiles let out a warning growl under his breath. Impressive…for a human. 

“There was more to it than that.”

“You slipped on a latte.”

Stiles hobbled over to the couch and plopped himself down, wincing as the cloud of dust he’d come to miss invaded his nostrils and made him sneeze.

“Whatever. Look. I can stay at the house on my own. Dad’s only gonna be out of town for a week and I can look after myself.”

Derek’s soft laughter faded to a serious look. It had been discussed and agreed on. While the Sheriff was out of town, it was probably wisest for Stiles to stay at the loft. Everything was all on one level, or accessible by elevator. A werewolf who rarely slept and that Stiles also listened to was the added bonus.

“It’s not a problem. With Scott, Kira and Lydia gone skiing for the week, your Dad out of town, and someone has to keep an eye on the local supernatural scene, I’d rather have you close by in case something happens.”

Moving off to the kitchen, he shrugged his shoulders. In a low voice, he all but whispered.

“Besides. I’ve missed you.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Stiles gave no indication of having heard the last part. Smiling to himself, he reached into the fridge and grabbed a couple bottles of beer. Growing out his claws, he popped off the caps and went back to the sitting area. Handing one over, he stretched out on his overstuffed arm chair. One of few pieces of furniture that survived the countless battles that seemed to take place in the loft. 

At least he’d been able to get the curse lifted that sent people to Mexico at random times. Turned out it had nothing to do with kidnappings, which really was emphasized when the Girl Scouts he was buying cookies from stepped one toe over the threshold and ended up in Guadalajara. That had taken some smooth talking with the girl’s mother and the border officials to bring HER back. There was also that really unfortunate incident involving a window installer, Tijuana, and a burro. Shivering involuntarily at the memory of THAT voice mail, he turned his attention to Stiles who had managed to get himself situated and comfortable on the couch.

“Any other bad activity on campus or has it been pretty quiet?”

Sitting back as Stiles launched into a vivid narrative as only he could, Derek sank further into his chair, letting the energy from the human fill the room graphic depictions of very little in comparison to what they dealt with while Stiles was still in high school. The occasional lamia. A rogue werewolf. A rogue hunter. Calculus finals. Derek sat and absorbed it all, never once interrupting or getting him to be quiet. It was a change to be sure from when he left in August. 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Stiles stopped in his diatribe about the evils of differential equations as Derek seemed to speak aloud his thoughts.

“What was that?”

Stiles gave a half grin, the glint in his eyes like a blood hound on the scent.

“Nothing. Carry on.”

Derek felt the tips of his ears burn a little red, and his drank more of his beer a bit faster than he had been, if only to hide his glowing cheeks.

Falling back into his rhythm, the only interruptions to the story came with washroom breaks, and retrieval of another beer. As the night progressed, and Stiles words slurred softly, breaking apart around the time of finals, Derek found himself on the couch with Stiles, hand on his leg, veins running black as he drew away the discomfort.

“…and so I said to Scott that if nothing else happened, maybe this would finally be the first year where I can ring in the New Year with someone special, rather than just me and a pint of vodka.”

Derek shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to make any sort of committal one way or the other, or put his opinion forward for fear of alienating the awkward and gawky teen.

“Here’s hoping.”

Stiles’ raised his eyebrow, not exactly sure how to respond to Derek’s comment.

“What do you mean here’s hoping? That I’m some kind of social reject who needs a pity partner?”

Derek’s eyes went wide aware of the subtle shift in tone in Stiles’ voice.

“No. That wasn’t what I meant. What I meant was that maybe this year you’ll…you’re fucking with me aren’t you.”

Stiles let a drunken little giggle pass his lips, met with an equally drunken grin.

Derek curled his lips in a mock growl before getting to his feet. Stretching to the ceiling, he felt his back and neck pop, rolling his shoulders to work the kinks out. Looking down at Stiles whose eyes were a little unfocussed, but staring at the half inch of exposed skin around the top of his jeans, he tugged his shirt down. Stiles remained staring off into space, which Derek found relieving, and a bit sad as well. 

“Sit.”

Stiles struggled to sit upright. Gingerly setting his broken leg down on the ground, he indicated a spot between his legs.

“Stiles…”

There was a definite warning tone to his voice, even though he found himself moving to sit down on the ground. Gently sitting himself between Stiles legs, he felt the human’s hands start working expertly along the sides of his neck. Feeling the tension relaxing at the efforts Stiles was putting in, he felt the kneading hands pulling at his shirt. 

With a deft movement, his shirt was gone, and he was leaning forward letting Stiles work through the steel cords of tension in his back.  
“You’ve been worrying again.”

It was less a question than a statement. Not many, in or out of the Pack could get away with talking to him like that. Stiles drunken observations were generally more astute than the average public’s sober understandings.

“What makes you think that.”

He heard the expected huff behind him as a pointy finger ‘accidentally’ dug between two of his ribs, causing him to flinch.

“Did something happen while we were away?”

Derek felt a scowl cross his face. It had truthfully been rather quiet. Deaton had said the Nemeton was no longer pulling in a higher than normal percentage of the strange and spooky, and life had essentially returned to normal.

“Something happened.”

His voice was a low grumble, though that alternated between winces of pain as Stiles hit bundles of nerves, or soft tissue that didn’t really need to be pressed so hard. If he were only human, he’d likely be bruised in the morning.

Feeling the massage stop, Stiles leaned forward until his lips were just a hair’s breadth away from his ear.

“What happened Derek.”

Letting his head fall forward.

“You left.”

Looking back over his shoulder, staring into Stiles’ impossibly clear eyes.

“You left me behind.”


	2. Confusion

Stiles lay on the couch, leg elevated as per doctor’s instructions, and stared at the ceiling while his drunkenness faded to a buzz which in turn faded to a dull throbbing headache. Whether it was from lack of sleep or the alcohol wearing off, he wasn’t too sure, but the look of hurt on Derek’s face was unmistakeable. Trying to get comfortable, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Derek was more hurt than anything. He’d gone to college. They all had. Derek had even helped drive his stuff UP to his dorm. He wasn’t upset because Stiles had left Beacon Hills. He knew that. Academically, he knew that. But…

But.

The look on his face was unmistakeable. Looking up towards Derek’s sleeping area, he knew better than to invaded the Wolf’s Den. He remembers doing that once and being greeted with a pillow smacking him in the face and nearly sending him flying down the stairs. With his leg like this he had no doubt he’d probably fall and break his neck. Sensing more than seeing the sun starting to rise, he knew it was later in the day than it appeared outside. Shorter days and all that. Pulling out his phone, he nodded. Derek was awake by now, he was just hiding up stairs.

“Come down Derek. I’ll make the coffee.”

He wasn’t any louder than normal, but with the Werewolf hearing Stiles knew that he heard him. Probably was muttering muted curses under his breath while he was getting dressed, but it didn’t take long for Derek to appear in one of his damnable henleys and a pair of blue plaid lounge pants. His hair was sticking up at odd angles but he didn’t look like he JUST woke up. Moving wordlessly to Stiles, he helped the other man up, and gave him a cursory once over. Frowning his disapproval at the fact he knew Stiles did not sleep at all last night, he moved off to the kitchen, despite Stiles saying he was going to make the coffee.

“Derek,” Stiles had started.  
The werewolf merely shook his head and pointed off the to side.

“Bathroom.”

As much as Stiles really wanted to argue him on that little detail, he found himself in the unfortunate position of having to agree. Hobbling over with his crutches, he hopped up the two stairs to the main level washroom, which if he was being honest, was larger than his dorm room. Looking around, it was a major contrast to the rest of the main floor of the loft. Heated black marble floors, mosaic tiled shower surround, white toilet, flush mount sink with brushed steel faucet and a claw foot tub that seemed to just exist in the middle of the floor. 

Brand new in packaging on the towel rack was a rubber covering that would keep his leg dry while showering or if he were brave enough to try, to let him soak in the tub. Smiling at the thoughtfulness, Stiles was immediately reminded of his urgent need to use the room so he attended to that particular need, flushed, washed his hands, and made his way back to the kitchen where Derek was staring at the coffee maker, almost like he was trying to intimidate it into brewing faster. 

“You’re going to crack the glass if you don’t stop scowling at it like that.”

He received a grunt in return for his efforts. Carefully maneuvering himself onto one of the bar stools, he actually found it more comfortable than he expected, even with his leg in the cast. Without a word, Derek grabbed a stool and a few extra pillows that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and set them under his foot to help keep the pressure off the knitting bone. 

“What do you mean I left you.”

There wasn’t much to make it a question. The statement hung between them while Derek poured two cups of coffee and took a long sip of his own. It likely had to burn even his durable throat. The coffee was piping hot and freshly made. Taking a sip of his own, Stiles winced at the heat.

Derek fished in his pockets and dug out his cell phone, opened his messaging app. Tapping on the one with the contact name, “Super Sexy Mega Human Stiles,” there were a few short messages back an forth, the most recent one being sent by Derek around Thanksgiving. There were very few replies.

“Ah. I…”

Not saying a word, Derek opened one from the contact “Foxy Lady - Kira” there was a massive wall of text, very recent, and some of it them bitching about certain professors that Kira was now encountering that Derek had also had to suffer through. “Potato” had to be Scott, but there were also a lot of recent messages. Same too with even the Sheriff. 

Walking out of the room, taking Stiles’ coffee with him, Derek flopped into his arm chair, watching the sun peek the rest of the way above the horizon. Stiles awkwardly hobbled over to the couch and sat down grumpily.

“You know it’s not fair that you can just get up and walk whenever you want.”

“I brought your coffee with me.”

Stiles glared a little, he took another sip. He tried to wear a pissed off expression but it was difficult. The coffee was too good. He knew from experience that Derek roasted the beans himself and that Cora was the one he got them from. He wanted to be annoyed at Derek, but the coffee was too good. Derek casually reaching out and gently grabbing his foot and pulling out some of the pain from his leg wasn’t helping.

“I wanted to give you space.”

Holding up Derek’s phone, he tossed it back to the the sullen man. Noisily slurping his coffee, Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been in more contact with your Dad than I have been with you. How much more space are you trying to give me. Why are you giving me space in the first place. I never asked for it.”

Huffing, he shrugged his shoulders as though that would be enough of an explanation.

“I know I can be a bit…much at times and with me gone I thought I’d give you a break from all this,” indicating himself with a bit of a self deprecating smile. That was only met by a deeper scowl from the resident werewolf.

“But I never…you aren’t…Stiles. Did I do something to make you think I didn’t want you around?”

Stiles rapidly shook his head.

“No. It’s just…” he huffed again. He was doing that a lot he realized. He wasn’t as articulate as he normally was. Not that he was entirely gifted with words in the first place but he was usually better than this.

“Tell me the truth Stiles. I can hear when you aren’t being honest with me. Or yourself for that matter.”

“Damn polygraph like ears.”

Derek shrugged with a small smile.

“I thought leaving Beacon Hills would make it easier for me to…not think so much about you. I stopped messaging because I was having trouble…letting go.”

“Letting go of..?”

Stiles felt his cheeks go a little red.

“Letting go of you okay. I was trying to put distance between me and you because I still feel the awkward feeling that I had when I met you and I thought radio silence would help. But then I went and broke my leg and no one trusts me and I never told you I had a crush on you before and now I’m sitting in your loft running my mouth off because I can’t just run out the door.”

Derek let out a long suffering sigh. He didn’t detect any lie in the words and you’d have to be blind to miss how badly Stiles was blushing. Setting his empty coffee cup down on the table, Derek got up and sat beside Stiles on the couch. Looking over at the frankly embarrassed other man, he ruffled Stiles’ hair a bit.

“What if I told you you didn’t have to?”

One of Stiles’ eyebrows jumped up briefly.

“Run that by me again.”

Derek gave him a smile. The rare smile that no-one ever really saw. Stiles could count on one hand how many times in the years they’ve known each other that he’s seen this particular smile. Suddenly aware of Derek’s hand resting on his leg, Stiles ran through every math problem in his head to try to avoid having the inevitable physical reaction to Derek touching him so…casually. He was sure it didn’t work, but Derek didn’t say anything.

Derek moved his hand and deftly moved it behind Stiles shoulders, leaning in and gave him a ‘blink and you miss it’ kiss, before pulling back and away completely. 

“I’m going to run out and grab something for breakfast. See you in a bit Stiles.”

With that, Derek was out the door, wallet and keys in hand, still dressed in his pyjamas, leaving a confused and semi-aroused Stiles behind on the couch. Blinking at the closing door, Stiles muttered.

“Run that by me again?”


End file.
